Second Chance Father

by Renee Andrews

  Cody nodded once, then climbed out, not an easy feat, since he insisted on carrying all of the books himself, even though they hadn’t fit into his tote. Thankfully, the librarian had provided him with a plastic bag to aid in the process.

  To Elise’s dismay, he turned away from the path leading to Jack’s home and instead purposefully strode toward his cabin with the bags in tow.

  “I guess you’re going to read until dinner?” She attempted to mask her disappointment. “That’s fine. But if you’d like for me to read some of the books to you, I’d be happy to.”

  He never looked back. Simply entered the cabin, where, Elise knew, he’d proceed to his bedroom and crack open the first book.

  Sighing, she walked to her cabin and decided to spend the rest of her time this evening journaling the day’s events in her ongoing file. She consulted with her colleagues daily on Cody’s progress, or lack thereof, and they’d seen his recent wanderings as a positive response. She thought so too, and she now knew that he undoubtedly planned to visit Jack again. Which was good for Cody.

  For Elise’s heart, however, she wasn’t so sure.

  Chapter Three

  Jack drizzled a generous portion of thick, golden honey across the bottom half of his biscuit, placed the lid back on and then enjoyed the sweet tastes melding on his tongue while watching the sun rise above the mountaintop. He began each morning at the cabin in this manner, sitting on the front porch and watching the yellow rays push through the tree branches and illuminate his property like long, golden fingers.

  His mind drifted to yesterday, when Cody ran his fingers across the discarded wood with such reverence that Jack ached to know what transpired in the boy’s mind. Why had he been so upset about the ruined mahogany? Surely it hadn’t been the expense, because Jack suspected the boy had no idea about the cost. And the price didn’t matter to Jack. He could build an entire cabin out of mahogany if he chose to. Not that he would. In spite of the ample funds in his bank account, he’d never been prone to live in excess. He couldn’t justify living frivolously while so many barely scraped by.

  But if it hadn’t been the expense, what had bothered Cody so much about the wood? Jack glanced over his shoulder at the rejected piece, propped on the porch, a short distance away from the door. He hadn’t had the heart to throw it in the burn pile, or even take it to the shed to use for a smaller piece of furniture. Because he hadn’t wanted Cody to find it missing when he returned.

  If he returned.

  Jack was surprised at how quickly he’d developed such an attachment toward the boy. He’d vowed to never have kids again, because of the pain he’d experienced when he lost them, and in moving to the middle of nowhere, he had thought he’d never even be around children again.

  But this was different. Cody was different. Not because Jack had changed his mind about wanting children again, but because he had to help this boy who’d been through the same horrific loss that Jack had experienced.

  Yet he feared Cody might never come back.

  And if Cody didn’t return, neither would Elise.

  Jack flinched, the awareness that he wanted to see a woman other than Laney stabbed a shard of guilt into his heart. He’d promised to love Laney forever, till death do us part.

  Death had parted them, hadn’t it?

  Jack pushed aside the thoughts of Elise and the attraction that brushed the surface of their interactions regarding Cody. Because as much as he wanted to help the child, he also wanted to see Elise.

  But he didn’t want to want to see her.

  He ran his palm across his slick chin. It’d felt rather nice to get rid of the heavy mass, almost liberating. But it also gave him the sense of being exposed, so that when he did encounter people, they’d see more, know more, about his pain.

  However, as much as that prospect bothered him, the fact that his facial hair may have deterred the boy from feeling comfortable around him caused Jack to put his razor to good use. If Cody came back today, he’d make a better effort at gaining his trust.

  He looked again to the broken area in his border of trees, the narrow path that’d brought his only two visitors since he’d arrived here. As he watched, the sun rose a little higher, showcasing the very spot where they’d appeared.

  And then Jack saw him, ambling out of the path with awkwardness to his steps, as though he were off balance.

  “Cody.” Careful not to jump up from where he sat on the porch, Jack maintained his composure and kept his voice steady. “Hey, I hoped you’d come back.”

  His gait a little stilted and his pace slow and guarded, Cody eased toward the cabin as though he didn’t want to rush this encounter. Or as though preparing to bolt the way he did yesterday.

  As he neared, he tilted his head, the way Jack had seen him do before, and a large chunk of dark brown hair fell across his right eye with the gesture. Today’s shirt was similar to yesterday’s, except it was forest green and had a photo of a ’67 Chevelle on the chest. And like before, he wore dark jeans and those black-and-white tennis shoes, laces untied.

  He frowned and stared at Jack’s face, specifically his chin.

  Jack ran his hand across the skin. “It’s still me, just no beard.” He thought Cody’s head moved a fraction in a slight nod. Maybe the boy would stick around a little longer this time. Then Jack’s attention shifted to the cream-colored tote hanging from Cody’s right arm and the green plastic bag on the other. They sagged from heavy contents, and Cody clasped his hands together to brace his arms from the weight.

  “What have you got there?” Jack pointed to the bulging bags.

  But Cody wasn’t paying attention to his baggage. Instead, he focused on Jack’s plate of biscuits.

  “Cody?” Elise called his name breathlessly as she emerged from the trail. Jack and the boy both turned toward the woman holding a hand to her chest as she moved toward them. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair, unlike the last time he’d seen her, wasn’t captured in a ponytail but fell in long, dark waves around her shoulders, the way it’d been when he saw her crying in the woods. Jack made a mental note to eventually learn what made her cry that day, but now wasn’t the time. Judging from her appearance, she’d started the morning by learning her patient had, once again, gone AWOL.

  She looked as though she’d yanked on the first clothes she could find, which happened to be an oversize white T-shirt with a disgruntled bulldog in the center and the caption Got Coffee? at the top, jeans that had a rip above the left knee and hiking boots.

  Jack thought the sunrise would be the prettiest thing he’d see this morning. He’d been wrong. There was something about a woman early in the day, before she looked so put together and when she had that vulnerable, just-woke-up appeal, that grabbed his heart and held it captive.

  The way Elise held it captive now.

  It’d been a long time, two years, since he’d seen a woman like this, her cheeks glowing from embarrassment that he’d caught her unprepared for the day. His first thought was that he’d like to share a cup of coffee with a woman like that. His second thought was that he didn’t want to give his heart to a woman again. And his third thought...

  She looked at him as though she had no idea who he was.

  “Elise?” He’d been so long without regular human interaction that his voice still sounded odd to his own ears. Rough and raspy. Still, he liked the way it felt when he said her name.

  Her chin dropped, one eyebrow lifted and she whispered, “Jack?”

  He’d thought she couldn’t look cuter than she had disheveled and emerging from the woods at barely past seven in the morning. But he’d thought wrong. Her confused expression added another layer of vulnerability. She’d look incredible on film.

  Jack pushed the reminder of his previous life away and focused instead on the woman before him. “Yeah, it’s m
e,” he said, managing a smile for his guests.

  “Wow.”

  He could tell by the way her cheeks flushed even more that she hadn’t meant to release the whispered word and, truthfully, he experienced a little embarrassment—or something—of his own, because it didn’t appear to be a term of surprise that he’d shaved, but a whisper of appreciation. And it ebbed through him much like those sun rays eased through the trees, warming him, reminding him of the way it felt to be seen as a man by a beautiful woman.

  Cody pointed to the plate and broke the charged tension that’d caught Jack by surprise.

  Jack cleared his throat and did his best not to stare at the woman now walking toward his porch. Instead, he focused on the boy, standing very near now, and still pointing at the plate filled with biscuits.

  “You want some?” he asked.

  Another slight nod, and then Cody dropped the heavy bags to the ground and sat on the middle step.

  “Cody’s cabin counselor called me when he didn’t show up at the dining cabin for breakfast. He left with the group but must have taken a detour on the way. I figured he might have come here.” Elise pushed a heavy wave of hair away from her face as she spoke. “Cody, I asked you to tell an adult when you want to leave Willow’s Haven. Remember?”

  Cody nodded and frowned.

  “Okay. Let’s make sure to do that next time. Understand?”

  Another nod, and then Cody returned his attention to the plate of biscuits and pointed again.

  Elise laughed softly. “I’m sure he’s hungry, if you have enough.”

  “I’ve got plenty.” Jack was glad he’d fixed the large can of biscuits. “Hang on, I’ll get some more from inside.” Then he wondered whether they’d also want to eat on the porch, the way he’d done since he moved in. “Or would y’all rather come in to eat? I don’t have a kitchen table yet. I haven’t gotten that far in my furniture building. But we could eat...” He didn’t exactly know where they’d eat. There wasn’t much in the cabin yet beyond a desk, a few chairs and a mattress.

  “Out here is fine.” Elise still stared at his face. “I—You look so different.”

  And that was all it took for that raw, exposed feeling to take over and for him to wonder how much she saw. He could tell by the expression on her face—and by the one-word exclamation earlier—that she didn’t mind the way he looked. But could she see more than mere appearance? Like how he felt empty without the family that completed him? Or how he blamed God for taking everything he loved away, so much that he refused to make another film to glorify a Creator who hadn’t cared?

  Instead of responding, he stood and started inside. “I’ll get more.” Then he stopped at the door. “I have coffee, if you want some. And milk for you, Cody, if you like.”

  “Coffee is fine,” she said. “I don’t need anything in it, though. And Cody loves milk.”

  Thankful that he at least had some dishes, and also grateful for the supply of groceries he’d gathered from Stockville last week, Jack left them on the porch to gather the breakfast items. He’d bought an abundance of food because he didn’t plan to go into town more than a couple times per month. And he’d chosen Stockville, a city a little farther away, for his shopping to limit his exposure and noticeability to the folks who’d most likely show up for a visit.

  Little did he know Cody would find him by merely walking through the woods.

  Jack didn’t need to get wrapped up in the desires of a boy JJ’s age, didn’t need to have visitors or feed them when they showed up at his door. But Cody wasn’t just “some boy.” He’d been through more than any other kid Jack had known, losing his parents, his entire family. The same way Jack lost his. How could he not try to help the child?

  He poured the coffee and milk and brought them out to find Elise standing so close to the entrance that he nearly hit her with the door.

  She took a step back, but not far enough that he didn’t catch her citrusy scent. And he found himself enjoying it much more than the yeasty smell of the biscuits and crisp aroma of coffee that filled the kitchen.

  “I thought you might need help carrying things out, but I didn’t want to come in without asking.” She looked at him shyly and, though she didn’t have on an ounce of makeup, her dark eyes couldn’t have been prettier amid that sea of brown lashes.

  Jack didn’t like the way that he noticed her eyes, or the way she smelled, or anything else. He’d never wanted to notice another woman that way, never wanted any other woman but his wife. And he didn’t want to betray Laney’s memory. But Elise was clearly here for Cody, not Jack, and in order to help the boy, he’d undoubtedly spend time with the woman who had the same goal. Helping the child. Nothing more, nothing less.

  She inched away from him. “I don’t have to help if you’d rather I not go in.”

  Jack had never been rude, and he wouldn’t start now. He eased the door open wider. “No, that’d be great. The biscuits are on the stove.” Then he felt the need to apologize. “And ignore the fact that there isn’t much in there yet. Like I said, I’m still working on the furniture.”

  She gave him a soft smile and stepped inside while he placed her coffee mug on the top step near his own and then handed Cody the glass of milk.

  Cody took a big sip, keeping his mouth firmly against the cup while he gulped several swallows, and then placed the cup beside him on the middle step. He had a milk mustache that Jack might have mentioned, but he didn’t want to do anything that would cause the boy to be embarrassed. Or to leave. And he realized that he’d been preparing for this moment, waiting for it, since Cody left yesterday. Not only the chance to try to help the boy, but also the chance to spend time with the pretty therapist exiting his cabin with the remainder of the biscuits.

  How he ached for a woman’s touch, not merely her physical touch, but for her touch in his home. Just a quick glance around his Spartan surroundings revealed the absence—the need—of a feminine presence. But he couldn’t think about that now. He had a mission. To help a little boy.

  And if that meant spending time with this attractive lady, he would.

  “You’d already buttered them, right?” she asked, and Jack pushed those wayward thoughts aside.

  He nodded. “Yeah, and I hope y’all like butter. I’m kind of partial to it.”

  “I can see that.” The right corner of her mouth lifted as she moved to the top step and then pulled the lower plate out from under the one that held the remaining six biscuits. Jack had taken two earlier and still had one on his plate. “I love butter, and I’m pretty sure Cody does too.”

  She put three of the biscuits on a plate and handed them to Cody. “That about right for you, Cody?”

  He didn’t answer but stared at the biscuits, and she must have taken that as a yes, because she then turned to Jack. “You want another one, or two?”

  “One,” he said, finding it oddly comforting to sit beside her on the porch and have her serve him a biscuit, as if this were something natural. And as if he hadn’t been eating all of his meals alone for as long as he could remember.

  Cody hadn’t touched his biscuits but instead looked to Elise as though waiting for something. Jack watched as she gave the boy a little smile.

  “Would you like to say grace for us?” she asked Jack.

  His skin prickled, and he had the sudden recollection of AmyJo and Sadie singing their prayer at the kitchen table. “You can.” He couldn’t control the gruffness of his tone induced by the bittersweet memory.

  Her mouth slid to the side, eyebrows dipped in concern, but then she bowed her head. “Dear God, thank You for letting me find Cody this morning, and thank You for Jack’s willingness to share his meal. Bless this food, Lord, and bless our day. In Your Son’s name, amen.”

  Apparently, the word amen held the same connotation as ready-set-go for Cody, becau
se he scooped up a biscuit the moment she finished and nearly ate half of it in one bite. His mouth worked vigorously as he chewed, and he grabbed his glass of milk and gulped more to get it down.

  “Hey now, slugger—” Jack patted Cody’s knee “—slow down, or you’ll get choked.”

  Elise nibbled on her biscuit but laughed as she chewed. “He’s right, Cody. Take your time.” She spotted the jar Jack had tucked behind the porch post. “Is that honey?”

  Jack had already coated his first two biscuits, but he should’ve thought to offer some to his guests. He reached for the jar. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m...not used to having company.”

  She took the honey, waited a beat, then asked, “And you weren’t really planning on having anyone here at all, were you?” The question begged for an answer that elaborated on his reasons for setting up his home in the middle of nowhere, escaping civilization and everything it entailed, all of the pain it instilled, but Jack wasn’t ready to explain. Didn’t know if he’d ever be ready. He’d already told her more than he’d planned.

  So he simply said, “No, I wasn’t,” and when he saw Cody frown, he added, “But it’s okay.”

  The boy didn’t smile, but the frown lifted into the flat line that he often displayed when he appeared to tighten every muscle in his face in an effort to control...something. Maybe that kept him from speaking when he wasn’t ready to talk yet. Or maybe that was the way he hid his own emotions. Rather than build a cabin in the woods, he built a fortress around his words and protected them with a vengeance.

  Suddenly, Cody pointed toward the jar Elise now held in her hand.

  “You want some too, Cody?” she asked with a smile. When he held his plate toward her, she lifted the top off one of his remaining biscuits and poured the honey in the center. “See what you think.”

  The boy took a big bite and hummed so deeply it sounded like a growl.

  Elise’s eyes lit up. “That good, huh?” She drizzled the honey on her two biscuits and grinned when Cody held his plate toward her for more. She obliged him by covering the other biscuit with honey and then told Jack, “I hope you have more inside, because we’re making a huge dent in your stash.”